


Learned Behavior

by Fudgyokra



Category: Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: At Least Clark Doesn't Think He Does, Bonding, Bruce...Does Not Flirt, Cute, First Kiss, Flirting, Friendship/Love, Late Night Conversations, M/M, On Clark's Behalf Anyway, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 06:18:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11617695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fudgyokra/pseuds/Fudgyokra
Summary: In the middle of their usual drivel, though, Bruce managed to catch him off guard with the words, "I noticed something about you, Kent."





	Learned Behavior

**Author's Note:**

> This is lame because it was hastily written, but have it anyway lol. How…does one write Clark…?

It was just the two of them left in the tower’s break room now, as Wonder Woman was on duty, Cyborg was at home, and the rest were doing god knows what (gallivanting across Metropolis, Bruce suggested; perhaps, Clark replied; no doubt, Bruce assured.)

The Gothamite among them sat at the bar, while Clark stood on the wall some feet away, unsure of whether he should approach. It wasn’t unusual for it to be just the two of them, yet it never seemed to be comfortable companionship, no matter how often they spent time together.

The main problem is that Bruce swore Clark had an affinity for nitpicking “small things” that the latter did not consider to be small things at all, which is, de facto, what led them into the conversation they were having now. In the middle of their usual drivel, though, Bruce managed to catch him off guard with the words, “I noticed something about you, Kent.”

Clark’s first instinct was to feel flattered, but then he remembered to whom he was speaking. “What might that be?” he ventured, not exactly warily but none too thrilled, either.

Amid Bruce’s absent staring at the wall ahead of him, he delivered a strange observation: “You’re more monster than man.”

Clark had learned not to take these sorts of comments personally. He suspected it might even have been a joke, but he wasn’t sure, so he waved it off. “Ah…well, it comes with the territory, I suppose. But I’d like to point out that you’re more _man_ than _machine_ , despite what you might think.”

Bruce curled his lip. “Sit down.”

Clark didn’t need the invitation, but for the sake of quick obedience--something the Batman tended to like--he took the seat next to him at the bar right then. “Even superheroes need their rest,” he said meaningfully, eyeing the glass of whiskey around which Bruce had one fist clenched. “Otherwise they pick up some nasty habits they never had before.”

“I’m not becoming an alcoholic,” Bruce muttered, shortly before lifting the glass to his lips. “As long as crime is awake, I’m awake.”

Despite himself, Clark smiled fondly at the predictability. “Yes, I am aware of that, but it has been _days_ , Bruce. When is the last time you even had a decent nap?”

When an answer didn’t come immediately, Clark found himself more worried than he had initially been. It took him a second, but he finally found the right words to say. “I will take care of it tonight.”

Bruce looked at him, eyes icy and narrowed. Clark hoped there would be more trust between them now, but it seemed that hope was sorely one-sided. To his surprise, however, Bruce relinquished his death grip on his cup and grunted in affirmation. Before he could celebrate the small victory, the other man said, “The moment anything goes wrong, it’s your ass on a platter.”

Clark flashed a sideways smile. “I am not sure what that means, but I can promise you nothing will go wrong. Plus,” he added as an afterthought, “you deserve the rest.”

Bruce set his jaw and stared into his half-empty glass. “You sound like Dick.”

At that, Clark only hummed. What he replied with, instead, came complete with a flashy smile and a nudge to Bruce’s ribs. “If you really want to be a hero, you’d rescue me from the drone of Metropolis every now and then.”

For whatever reason, this seemed to set Bruce on edge. He looked back up and affixed Clark with a serious stare. “What does _that_ mean? I thought you hated Gotham.”

Clark’s lips parted, but words failed him. He was beginning to think he had said the wrong thing, but suddenly there was an uncharacteristic grin on the other’s face. “It makes you fall in love faster than you’d think possible, doesn’t it?” Bruce asked.

A short puff of breath escaped through Clark’s teeth before he managed a laugh; his moment of walking on eggshells had been bypassed for something worse. “Oh, there are some things I like about it more than others.”

Bruce studied him carefully. The feeling of having watchful eyes on him he had become accustomed to, not just from Bruce but from others as well, so he knew his face wouldn’t betray him to the average passerby. Wayne, however, was much smarter than he looked. “I’m sure that could apply to anyone here,” the man replied after a long pause.

Clark laughed. He didn’t really know why, but he laughed.

The stiff expression on the dark knight’s face melted away into a grudging smile. “Fine, I’ll consider getting you out of there sometime.”

There was another pause, during which Clark ran those words through his head again, two-fold. Once they registered, his face was struck with a ridiculous, toothy grin. “Is that a date?” he teased boldly, sliding the glass of whiskey away while Bruce was distracted by the way Clark was leaning in close.

“Hardly,” Bruce replied, stone-faced once again.

That was better than punching him, Clark decided, so he dove for the urge that struck him. When he kissed Bruce, he could feel the straight line of his mouth curl upward: A ray of sun in the storm if he’d ever seen one.

When he pulled back, he realized with a start that he’d forgotten exactly where they were. “Ah, excuse me, I should have…asked,” he concluded, although he was still perfectly satisfied with himself, if he were being honest.

“Trust me,” Bruce began, noticeably trying not to look him in the eye, “if I were mad, I wouldn’t still be sitting here.” He made a sound that, for once, wasn’t a _grunt_ but a _chuckle_ , and Clark allowed himself a small sigh of relief as he stood.

“So tonight, I get to be the Batman. Tomorrow…you get to be the guy who buys lunch.”

It was a long wait before he got an answer, but it eventually did come, spoken without a hint of grudging attitude about it. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

“So, it _is_ a date?” Clark pressed. His smile was wrought with winning joy and his hands were perched confidently on his hips now, in stark contrast to his very recent nervousness regarding the situation.

Bruce, as he typically did, ignored the flirtatious proposal. “If you’re the Batman, you should have been gone by now.”

“Oh!” Clark pulled his cape up over the lower portion of his face and reduced his volume to a grumble. “Right, I am the night.”

“Don’t do that,” Bruce said with a smile that betrayed his flat tone, “I don’t sound like that.”

“You definitely do,” Clark replied. After a second, he added in earnestness, “But I’ve come to enjoy it.”

“That’s half of what the Justice League is about, isn’t it? Learned behavior.”

Again, Clark was not quite sure if that was a joke. He laughed, anyway. “Of course, my friend. If you don’t learn something new every day, then what did you do?”

He left Bruce to ruminate on that note, prepared (unexcited) for a night of crime-fighting in a city duller than hell, with more devils to boot. The faster he got to it, though, the sooner it would be tomorrow.

Tomorrow, tomorrow.


End file.
